


Breakfast in Skyhold

by necroMatador



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life, admittedly a slice of the life of the Inquisitor in Thedas..., and yes in case anyone's curious my Lavellan is blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necroMatador/pseuds/necroMatador
Summary: A chaotic breakfast in Skyhold, the only way that equally chaotic Inquisitor Elian Lavellan wants to wake up.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Breakfast in Skyhold

Mornings at Skyhold tended to be fairly regimented. Everyone and everything had a set schedule; appointments that must be kept, meetings to be had, missions to be embarked upon or returned from, and preparations for their next missions. It was rare that all the higher members of the Inquisition would be in Skyhold at once.

But when they were…well…most groups in as high a standing as the Inquisition would expect a certain level of formality to their group meals. The Inquisition was, as always, somewhat different. Elian Lavellan could hear the ruckus long before he even emerged from the blanket cocoon he had built around himself in his sleep.

“And then I jammed the broken bow so far up his-“

“Sera! We’re eating!”

Slowly he extricated himself, nearly tripping as he tried to walk with half a sheet still clinging to his legs.

“Varric, dear, I’ve outlined all of the current fashions in Val Royeaux for your story.”

“Maker’s breath, Iron Lady, this packet is thicker than the actual book will be!”

Eyes unopened, not that they would have helped, Elian made his way drearily out of his quarters. As he went he let out a low series of sharp clicks, the echoes around him helping to avoid tripping over the armor dropped haphazardly over the floor from an exhausted retreat to bed the previous night. Once he got to the door of his room, his memory and the staff he always left there helped him better navigate the stairs leading down toward the delicious smells of food.

“Leliana have you heard from your people on the situations in the Hinterlands?”

“I am expecting a report back sometime today, Cullen. I’ll let you know when I know.”

“Thank you. Josephine? Did you learn anything from the meeting in Sahrnia?”

“Leave some honey for the rest of us, Cullen, and I’ll tell you.”

Reaching out softly with magic, Elian counted all nine of his companions, and two of his advisors, but the sharp voice occasionally telling off Sera or Varric meant that Cassandra was present as well.

“Bull, darling, why are you taking more food when you’ve got a full plate right there?”

“Oh, that’s for the boss. I’m making sure Sera doesn’t eat everything before he gets down here.”

“Where is his Inquisitorialness?”

“Still sleeping last I saw. And hogging all the blankets.”

Elian pushed the large wooden doors of the dining hall open, the creaking of their hinges calling everyone within to silence. He imagined he was quite a sight: hair even more a mess than usual (he could feel some of it had plastered against the side of his face at some time in his sleep), in pajamas that are just the wrong size enough to make them look awkward, with eyes that may or may not be open. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and broke the silence in the only way that seemed appropriate.

“You all better have left me some of the fruit crepes I smell or so help me, it’s not the Dread Wolf you’ll worry about catching your scent.”

There was another moment of silence. Elian let out a sigh and began walking towards where Bull was seated at the table.

“Sorry. Dalish mother's threat.” And with a noncommittal hand-wave, the commotion of the dining hall began again. Blackwall pulled Sera back from where the archer had been practically climbing across the table to reach a basket of scones, while Josephine passed the basket over without lifting her eyes from something she was reading. Varric was gesturing wildly while finishing a story about Hawke to an enraptured Cole and an empty chair that might house Cassandra. Dorian and Solas were discussing some very complicated technical magical theory. And when Elian got close enough, Iron Bull pulled him over with one arm and scooted a heavy plate over in front of them with the other. Calmly, the Inquisitor took some offered silverware, settled back the Iron Bull’s lap as two warm arms were wrapped around his midsection, and began unceremoniously shoveling food into his sharp-toothed mouth. 

Elian wouldn’t trade this messy chaotic group of losers for the world.

~~And then Sera, reaching precariously for another bowl of food, knocked a container of jelly onto Vivienne’s lap. The dining hall never cleared out faster.~~


End file.
